


Gaygirigetsu 2k17: Proposition

by JinjoJess



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Dangan Ronpa: Kirigiri
Genre: F/F, Gaygirigetsu
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-06
Updated: 2017-10-06
Packaged: 2019-01-09 18:19:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12281925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JinjoJess/pseuds/JinjoJess
Summary: “I’m listening.”





	Gaygirigetsu 2k17: Proposition

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Birthday, Kirgir! Still feel pretty meh about how this came out, but at least I finally managed to post on her actual birthday! Please enjoy.

The cuts were small but deep—gouged into the wood of the front gate with intense precision. An untrained eye would never have noticed them. Even Yui and Yuiko were likely to miss the message carved into a hidden part of the door frame, tucked away in a spot only the most thorough of seekers would check.

Of course, this was exactly what the messenger had been counting on.

_Shinagawa docks. Midnight. Come alone._

Too specific to the case she’d just solved to be coincidental graffiti, and clearly not directed at anyone else in the household. Yuiko’s training was still in the middling tier of recognizing forgeries, and Yui’s biggest case recently had been the result of a drunken misunderstanding.

Kirigiri traced the characters with a single gloved finger. She’d never seen a more obvious trap in her life, but…the organization she’d been on the heels of lately was certainly powerful enough to mount a devastating counter strike. It made perfect sense to see her as the main target, as she was the one who had cuffed an organization member and was doggedly pursuing them.

Not that Kirigiri couldn’t handle herself, but ignoring a message like this might prove dangerous for other people in her life. Her daughter had to be protected at all costs, and while she believed that her wife was capable enough to escape for a time, she couldn’t run forever. This was not even mentioning how Kirigiri’s other close friends would fare, like Naegi and his family, or Celes, or the numerous other people she was tenuously connected to through them.

If that emotionally scarring case right before Yuiko had been born that had landed both Enoshima twins in graves had taught her anything, it was that clever criminals sought collateral revenge.

Though she could hear both Yui and Naegi begging her not to in the back of her mind, Kirigiri drew a pencil and her notebook from her jacket and jotted down a memo:

_Shinagawa docks. Midnight. Go alone._

***

Kirigiri had the cab let her off several blocks from the dockyard, pretending to head into a nearby bar before squeezing down an alley and making for the water. Thanks to a rather long investigation of a smuggling operation, she was fairly familiar with the area, navigating the network of cargo in a complex zig-zag designed to shake off any unwanted pursuers.

The figure silhouetted against the dusky, rust-colored hue of Tokyo’s night sky did not surprise her—though the fact that it seemed to be the only one present did.

“I have to say, I’m surprised to see you here without your personal security detail,” Kirigiri said, her eyes scanning the area for any indication of said security leaping from behind a shipping crate. “Rather unusual for you, Kuzuryuu-senpai.”

“I said alone, didn’t I?” Kuzuryuu scuffed the bottom of his shoe against the pavement, as if trying to scrape something off his sole.

“That you did. I simply did not assume that it applied to both parties.”

“I’m a man of my word.”

“In my experience, yes.”

“I think the last time we met up like this was before that insane gambit you came up with to put the Psycho Sisters out of everybody’s misery.”

“I seem to remember that they preferred to be called ‘The Despair Sisters’,” Kirigiri corrected.

“Whatever. The point is that it’s been awhile, okay? Jeez…” Kuzuryuu’s voice dropped to a low mumble before trailing off into awkward silence. After a few moments, he began to fidget, pulling a handkerchief from the inside of his jacket only to open it, refold it, and put it back, clearly waiting for Kirigiri to pick up the conversation.

She continued to stare at him, face neutral.

“Fucking hell, Kirigiri,” Kuzuryuu finally spat, shoving his fists deeply into his pockets, as if he’d start swinging them if he didn’t. “Why’d you have to go snooping around?”

“It is simply what I do.” She paused. “For what it’s worth, it isn’t personal.”

“Right, right. Always business with you, huh?”

“Forgive me, but is that not also the case with your own clan?”

He coughed out a rough laugh. “Got me there.”

“So,” Kirigiri said. “I will be going then, if that’s all.”

“Hold it right there.”

Something sharp and dangerous had crept into Kuzuryuu’s voice. It was a tone Kirigiri didn’t remember from high school—the steely edge tinging his words sounded almost befitting of the man next in line to take over the Kuzuryuu family.

“I know you know that I let a lot of shit slide when it comes to you, since we used to be so close in school.”

“Are you looking for an expression of gratitude, or—”

“But this I can’t fucking overlook, even if I wanted to.” Kuzuryuu drew a shuddering breath and held it for a few seconds before continuing. “That guy, the one you picked up…he worked under Natsumi. Like, directly under her. He was kind of like her right hand guy.”

“That’s strange. I normally would have assumed that your sister would have higher standards.”

“Could you not, right now? Fucking Christ.”

“…I assume that what you are trying to tell me is that my apprehension of your sister’s second-in-command is going to affect her in some negative way.”

“That’s a pretty clinical way of putting it, sure.” Kuzuryuu’s remaining good eye flicked to meet Kirigiri’s gaze. She idly wondered what happened to the glass one he’d received after the incident. “Let me just be straight here: cause of you, Natsumi is fucked.”

Kirigiri remained silent. Artificial light from the flood lamps used by fisherman to bring in tuna during the night reflected off of Kuzuryuu’s face, highlighting the sheen of sweat coating it. It was far more sweat than one would normally produce on a breezy, early October evening while standing still.

“You’re afraid.”

“Afraid? I’m goddamn terrified!” Kuzuryuu’s voice hitched at the end of the sentence, echoing off the surrounding corrugated steel so that it sounded like a distant scream. “If I don’t do something to fix this, and fast, the old man is going to… To…”

Clutching his lapel, he coughed twice, then breathed deeply as if to calm himself.

“Natsumi’s fucked up enough times already. Her top guy getting caught and interrogated is telling the clan that she’s a liability. The old man can’t have that.”

“I was under the impression that your sister was your father’s favorite.”

“Ha! Ha ha! Oh god, yeah, sure. That’s what we both thought in high school, maybe, but since I’ve grown up I’ve realized that the family business is his favorite, not either of his kids.” A hiss escaped Kuzuryuu’s clenched teeth. “But I don’t need to explain that to you, do I?”

Kirigiri crossed her arms.

“Look,” Kuzuryuu said, running his fingers through his short hair and looking down at the wet pavement. He reached up inside his jacket to rub his left shoulder. “I need to make this all go away.”

“While I understand your reasoning, and am empathetic to how you feel, I hope you don’t expect me to lie down willingly.”

Kirigiri shifted her weight to the balls of her feet, ready to run. She wasn’t aware of how familiar Kuzuryuu might be with this area, but perhaps she could use his emotional state to catch him off-guard and gain some distance. Of course, if he had lied about being alone that would be another matter entirely, but she had never known him to employ such an underhanded tactic.

The sharpness she’d heard in his voice earlier shot through her mind. It had been a long time…how much had time and proximity to his father changed him?

Kuzuryuu began to laugh again—short, bitter burps of mirthless sound dripping from him like tears. It reminded Kirigiri of how Enoshima used to laugh, with tightly controlled bursts of “upupupu” firing from her lips like bullets. She briefly wondered what Enoshima would say if she saw Kuzuryuu now.

“Why’s it got to be like this, huh?” Kuzuryuu asked, then continued without waiting for an answer. “Why is it that some of us have to be slaves to some shitty legacy?”

“Because not all of us were fortunate enough to be born normal.”

Kirigiri eyed the fingers kneading Kuzuryuu’s shoulder inside of his jacket. Even knowing about the old knife wound Ikusaba had gifted him all those years ago, she anticipated him pulling out a firearm at any second. She had to move at the right moment—if she timed it correctly, she could either escape, or attack and disarm him, whichever would be more effective.

“Guess so.” Kuzuryuu grunted, digging his fingers deeper into the muscle of his shoulder. “Sometimes, sometimes I’m jealous of Peko, you know? Like she can just turn it off when she’s working. The whole, ‘giving a shit’ thing. Me, though? I can’t. Just fucking can’t. Been trying for years, but it’s no good.”

In high school, when they had loosely formed their circle of malcontent heirs, Kirigiri had somewhat admired Kuzuryuu’s ability to succumb to his emotions. It was something that she had seen Yui and Naegi do, of course, but finding someone from a similar background capable of it…it had proven that such a thing was possible. She liked to think that over the years of being a friend, wife, and mother, she’d been able to achieve a little more balance.

“But this has to be me. I have to do this. It’s like when that Satou chick pushed Natsumi down those stairs and all but fucking killed her. Gotta ‘uphold the family name’. Gotta earn my place. Gotta prove I have what it takes to take over, or else Natsumi and Peko and me are gonna be out on our asses and at the mercy of the old man’s dogs.”

Kuzuryuu’s hand had dropped from his shoulder but was still concealed inside his jacket. Kirigiri slid one foot backward slightly, trying to firm up her stance.

“You get it, don’t you, Kirigiri? This is it. This is where I have to finally give up this stupid idea that I can keep being a soft-ass, cause I can’t get away with it anymore.”

The handgun was almost invisible against the blackness of Kuzuryuu’s suit, but Kirigiri could make out the outline of it. Despite the tremor in his voice, his grip on the gun was entirely steady.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “It was either this, or go after your family.”

“Kuzuryuu.” The authority in Kirigiri’s voice caused him to tense, the muzzle of the gun dropping slightly. “I have a proposition.”

“Haven’t you been listening? It’s too late for that.”

“Please, listen to what I have to say. I promise that this solution will alleviate both of your issues, while still keeping my wife and child safe.”

The hand holding the gun dropped to Kuzuryuu’s side.

“I’m listening.”

***

Yui looked stunning in black, Kirigiri decided from her vantage point at the back of the room. She felt her heart skip at how attractively the black kimono complimented Yui’s athletic frame. If only her face weren’t puffy and swollen from crying.

Yuiko, clad similarly, was kneeling beside her, staring blankly at the framed photo at the front of the room. Naegi was on her other side, a reassuring hand resting on her back, leaning over every so often to whisper what Kirigiri assumed were words of comfort. Naegi’s wife was sitting about a  meter back from the main party of mourners, holding the hands of both their sniffling children, trying to swallow the sob hiccups erupting in her throat. Kirigiri had never seen Ayumi look so upset before—she normally mirrored her husband’s quiet affability, rarely seen without a gentle smile.

Celes, of course, had turned up in an elaborate, Western-style dress complete with large hat and black veil, which she had Yamada lift up every so often so that she could dab her eyes with a jet black handkerchief. Kirigiri judged by the way her hand shook that this turn of events had affected her deeply.

Naturally her classmates from Kibougamine had attended—minus the twins, of course—and despite Togami loudly announcing that he planned to leave immediately following the service for a _very_ important meeting, they all appeared adequately saddened.

It struck Kirigiri as odd that so many people she hadn’t spoken to since high school had turned out for her funeral, but if she were honest with herself, she suspected that many of them were there more for Naegi’s sake than hers.

“Damn shame,” she heard someone say to her left, “I hear she didn’t even get a chance to train her kid all the way.”

“That’s terrible,” responded another voice. “I suppose it will be left to her partner?”

“Probably. Good thing the grandfather went through with formally adopting her into the family before he died. Otherwise there might be custody issues since the kid is a full-blooded Kirigiri.”

“True. Do you think she’ll be able to find out who did it?”

“No need. Seems like everyone knows it was those Kuzuryuu bastards. It was common knowledge that she was getting way to close to nailing them.”

“If that’s the case it might be better to leave things lie.”

“Exactly. It’s a lucky thing they went after her directly and not the kid.”

“Scary stuff.”

“Definitely.”

Edging away from the conversation, lest someone try to draw her into it and render her expensive prosthetics moot, Kirigiri withdrew further into the corner of the room. In the back corner opposite her own, she spotted a scruffy blonde man leaning drunkenly against the wall. He produced a flask from his pocket and took a swig, before turning to offer it through the slightly cracked door.

Kirigiri pressed her back teeth together, breathing deeply even as she felt her blood pressure rise.

The nerve of showing up here, of thinking he was welcome now that she had no means of turning him away. It was infuriating. She certainly hoped he didn’t think that he had an opening to try and come establish contact with Yuiko.

Resisting the urge to march over to Kizakura and order him through clenched teeth to get his deadbeat buddy as far away from her daughter as possible, Kirigiri instead backed out through the opposite set of doors. She stood in the hallway for several minutes, breathing heavily, before turning to leave.

***

“I’m just saying, Yui-san—”

“Naegi. We have been through this.”

“I know, and I understand how you feel, but—”

“ _Enough!_ ”

Startled, Naegi took a step back. Kirigiri worried he might bump into the closet door and inadvertently open it, which would certainly defuse the current situation, but cause more than enough damage in a completely different way. Her family’s safety was only guaranteed so long as she remained hidden.

Of course, the hiding portion would be certainly easier were she able to pry herself away, but without family or duty to occupy her, she found the days long and empty, and she wondered if perhaps she should have agreed to Kuzuryuu’s plan instead.

“You have been going on about Kyouko still being alive for months now, and I. have. _had it._ ”

“All I’m saying is that we never found a body. There’s still a chance.”

“They found over two liters of blood, her blood, at the crime scene,” Yui said. “And scraps of her clothing—including her gloves—at the bottom of the bay. What more do you want?”

That had actually been one of the more clever parts of Kirigiri’s plan—utilizing those stockpiled bags of transfusion blood she’d prepared at her maternal grandfather’s former residence in case an emergency transfusion had been needed.

“There could be another explanation, though. We still haven’t found a body!”

“I wouldn’t care if it were just us…actually, it probably would still hurt, but the thing I can’t get over is that Yuiko believes you. You’re filling her with false hope.”

“It isn’t false.”

Yui dropped her face into her hands, muffling her response.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t catch that.”

“Get out of my house.” Yui’s voice rang clear and cold through the room. “Now.”

“Y-Yui-san…”

“Get out of my house, and don’t come back. You are not allowed to speak to my daughter.”

“Hey, come on now, don’t you think you’re overreact—”

“SHUT UP!” Yui stood up to her full height, towering over Naegi. “My wife is dead. The mother of my child is dead. Until you can accept the reality of that, you are not welcome here.”

Naegi expelled a weak gasp, opening his mouth as if to say something. Instead, he balled his hands into fists and looked toward the floor.

“Fine,” he said, turning to leave. “If you want to give up on her, that’s up to you. But I won’t.”

Seconds after the door shut, Yui dropped to her knees and began to sob.

Kirigiri dug her fingers into the wood of the closet door.

***

“Yui.”

Kirigiri rested a palm against her wife’s cheek, hoping the feeling of scar tissue wasn’t too upsetting to wake up to.

“Yui. Wake up.”

“Nnng, Kyouko, come on. I’m tired.”

“I realize that, but we need to talk.”

“But I’m tiiii—wait.”

Yui sat up abruptly, her head knocking into Kirigiri’s.

“I…probably should have anticipated that.”

“…Kyouko.”

“Yes.”

“Kyouko, you’re…you’re here…”

“Yes.”

Yui’s breath grew ragged, hitching with impending tears.

“I know this must be a shock to—”

“KYOUKO!”

Kirigiri choked on her words as Yui pulled her into a fierce hug, pressing her nose directly into her collarbone.

“I don’t care that it’s a dream,” Yui said, tears and snot cascading down her face and into Kirigiri’s hair. “I don’t care because this feels so real, and you’re here and alive in this dream and this is all I want. Just let me enjoy it for a little longer…”

“Yui!” Kirigiri gasped, extricating herself from her wife’s death grip. “Please, pull yourself together.”

“This is the most accurate dream I’ve ever had about you.”

“Perhaps that might be because this isn’t a dream.” Kirigiri readjusted her clothing before continuing. “I am genuinely here right now.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“…..”

“Yui?”

“…Oh my god. Oh my god. I didn’t believe Komaru-chan, but here you are and I can’t believe there’s an afterlife. This is a little much. I need a minute.”

“I cannot…Yui. I’m not dead.”

“You’re sure this isn’t a dream?”

“Positive. I have never been dead.”

Yui paused, cheeks still glistening with tears. She slowly reached to the bedside table, retrieved her glasses, and examined Kirigiri again.

“I…I don’t know what to say…”

“I’ve missed you too.”

“I need to apologize to Naegi-kun,” Yui said. “And you…you need to apologize to me.”

“For?”

“For…?! Kyouko, you let Yuiko and I—everyone—think you were dead!”

“Do you not believe I had good reason to do so?”

“I mean I guess, that wouldn’t be out of character for you, but still.”

Yui crossed her arms and looked off to the side for a moment.

“I’m going to go out on a limb and assume that your completely valid reason for putting me through horrendous grief for the past several months is still an issue.”

“You would be correct.”

“So what are you doing here?”

“Yui,” Kirigiri said, reaching out to take her wife’s hand. “Do you have any idea how difficult it’s been to see you and Yuiko in pain and be unable to do anything about it?”

“About as painful as thinking your wife is dead and you need to raise your daughter on your own while also completely taking over her training?”

“I…” Kirigiri sighed. “I’m sorry. I had to make a decision under very delicate circumstances, and it might not have been the best choice.”

“I accept your apology.”

“Thank you. As an expression of my sincerity, I have a much more measured proposition to offer.”

Yui gently pulled Kirigiri to her and planted a kiss on her forehead, then her lips.

“I’m listening.”

***

Ayumi slipped her hand into Naegi’s, lacing their fingers together, and rested her head on his shoulder.

“Honey, I’m so sorry.”

Naegi squeezed his wife’s hand, watching the billowing flames lick the low-hanging haze of clouds above. He could already imagine the headline in the paper tomorrow: GRIEVING DETECTIVE FAMILY TRAGICALLY KILLED IN HOUSE FIRE: FOUL PLAY AT WORK?

“Are you going to be okay?” Ayumi asked. The flames gave her teary eyes an orange tint.

“Yeah, I think so,” he said.

“Are you sure?”

“Yep.” He turned back to watch the house burn. “I haven’t given up, after all.”


End file.
